Stone Cold

Chapter Forty-Four

Alex and Bonnie walked out of the courtroom hand in hand, while Claire, Kate, and Mason huddled around their counsel table.

“How bad was that?” Claire asked.

“Well,” Mason said, “it’s never good when your client’s lover calls her a liar from the witness stand.”

“I know,” Claire said, “but was it that big a lie? It’s not like Alex was cheating on her. She knew Bonnie wouldn’t approve of her buying a gun, so she didn’t tell her. That’s the kind of lie people tell their loved ones all the time.”

“You’re focusing on the substance instead of the meaning of the lie,” Kate said. “Bonnie’s testimony sent a powerful message to the jury, and it wasn’t that Alex didn’t tell her about the gun and the practice range. It was that they shouldn’t trust Alex. And judging from what I saw on the jurors’ faces, they got the message, especially Brandon McCarthy.”

“He’s the engineer Alex insisted we keep on the jury,” Mason said.

“Yeah. Every time he looked at Alex, his micro expressions were filled with contempt. And that really is the problem. It’s a lot easier for the jury to acquit someone they like, but it’s hard for the jury to like someone they don’t trust.”

“You got all that from that one piece of Bonnie’s testimony?” Mason asked.

“No. If that was all there was, we’d have a better chance of riding it out. We came out of the opening statements in decent shape, but some of the jurors started shifting during Rossi’s testimony. Bonnie did well at first, but she dug a hole with the we-don’t-keep-secrets stuff.” Kate ran her fingers through her hair, shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the lesbian thing too. A lot of people are more comfortable with it in the abstract than they are up close and personal. Either way, we’re in trouble.”

“That’s great,” Claire said. “Any suggestions?”

“Yeah, figure out a way to make the rest of Ortiz’s witnesses look even worse, because if this case comes down to how the jury feels about Alex right now, she’s not going to like the verdict. I’ll go back to my hotel and study the juror profiles. Maybe I can find one or two who might give us a hung jury.”

Claire nodded. “Not a good day for us, but it wasn’t supposed to be, not when Ortiz is putting on his case. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“What are you going to do?” Mason asked after Kate left.

“Prepare Bonnie for her cross. Did Blues get you what you needed?”

“He got me an address. That’s where I’m headed. I’ll let you know how it pans out.”

Claire sighed. “This is a hell of a way to make a living.”

Mason laughed. “You know a better way?”

“No,” she said, smiling. “And I can’t imagine there is one.”

**

Mason pulled up in front of a well-maintained house on the east side, a sign on the corner declaring it a neighborhood watch area. The house was in the middle of a block of other well-maintained homes, no boarded-up windows and no vacant lots filled with garbage. It was dusk and the front porch of every house was lit, making the street glow.

He rang the bell and a man answered the door. He was white haired and solidly built, though his belly was losing the fight to age and gravity.

“I’m Lou Mason.”

“Frank Canfield. Grace told me to expect you. Come on in.”

Mason stepped inside. A short entryway led past the dining room on his right and opened into a family room. The furnishings were old, simple, and inviting, the walls adorned with family photographs. The kitchen was adjacent to the family room; a lone figure sat at the table, back turned.

“Gloria Temple?” Mason whispered.

“In the flesh.”

“Where’s she been hiding?”

“Little Rock. She’s got people down there.”

“Why’d she go and why’d she come back?”

“She won’t say. Least not to Grace.”

“How long has she been here?”

“Couple of days.”

“I’d like to see her room before I talk to her.”

“Okay by me.”

Frank led Mason to a bedroom at the top of the stairs. Clothes were strewn across the bed. A purse and a cell phone were on the nightstand. Mason picked up the phone.

“Gloria’s?”

“Not ours.”

“You got a computer?”

“Yeah. It’s in the other spare bedroom. Grace uses it for an office.”

Mason picked up the phone and followed Frank into Grace’s office. He took a small, soft leather case out of his pocket and opened it, removing a cord to sync the phone to Grace’s laptop. After connecting the phone to the laptop, he inserted another device into a USB port on the computer.

“What’s that?” Frank asked.

“It’s a recovery device that will let me download everything on Gloria’s phone.”

“You always carry that kind of stuff around with you?”

“Only when a friend of mine thinks I might need it. This will probably take fifteen or twenty minutes. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay here until it’s done. All you have to do is unplug everything, put my gear back in the case, and put Gloria’s phone back where it was. I’ll get the case from you before I leave.”

“I can do that.”

Mason nodded and headed for the kitchen. He stood in the family room for a moment watching Gloria. She was staring out the window, not moving.

“Hi, how ya doin’?” Mason said as he took a seat at the table.

Gloria studied him with eyes narrowed and suspicious, her mouth tight, before looking away. Mason waited for her to say something, knowing how hard it is to remain silent. She caved after ten minutes.

“Whaddya want wit’ me?”

“To talk to you.”

She was in her late teens, maybe early twenties, with a modest bust on a thin frame. Her hair was done in short, tight curls. She was wearing skinny blue jeans and a black T-shirt. And she smelled like she hadn’t bathed in a while.

“’Bout what?”

“Dwayne Reed.”

“What about him?”

“For starters, he’s dead.”

“I know that.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Heard about it, that’s all.”

“What do you know about how it happened?”

She wiped her nose on her arm. “I don’t know nuthin’ ’bout it.”

“Why’d you go to Little Rock?”

No answer.

“Why’d you come back?”

No answer. Mason stared at her, waiting her out, minutes passing.

“What?” she said.

“Look, Gloria. I don’t have time for this crap where I ask you questions and you pretend not to know the answers. There’s only one reason you’re here with a roof over your head instead of OD’ing in a piss-soaked crack house, and that’s because Grace Canfield thought you deserved a break. So show some gratitude and talk to me.”

Grace leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “I ain’t axed that bitch to do shit for me, and I ain’t got nuthin’ to say to you, so why don’t you get your white ass outta my face.”

“Because I’m representing a woman who’s on trial for killing Dwayne Reed and the prosecutor has listed you as a witness and I want to know why.”

“Then you oughta be axin’ him, ’cause that shit don’t mean nuthin’ to me.”

“Then why did you run off to Little Rock after Dwayne died? What were you afraid of?”

She stood, fists balled, arms tight against her sides. “I ain’t ’fraid of nuthin’!”

Mason got up and snapped a photograph of Gloria with his phone. “My advice, Gloria-make that the last lie you tell.”